Back in the Game
by OnceUponAShipper
Summary: After Olivia Benson watches her captor, William Lewis, kill himself, she's thrust down a tangled road to recovery and understanding. But, she's not doing it alone. An old friend returns and helps her through it... like old times. Frustrations emerge, anger is addressed, and a new kind of relationship comes to light. The question is, how far can Sergeant Benson go before she cracks?
1. Aftermath

Captain Olivia Benson had only ever been in hell once before— twice if you count her night undercover in the women's prison. But this was different. This was worse. She'd seen the Devil himself— his fiendish hazel eyes, his evil smirk used to win over innocent victims, and his sadistic, thirst for blood. She'd escaped Satan's clutches the first time, but just barely. It'd taken all of her strength and all of her courage to rid herself of the demon and his intent for murder. And, for a brief while, she'd started to feel like herself again; she'd started to believe she was going to be ok. Then, in the middle of her recovery, He returned. No warning, nothing to prepare herself with. William Lewis was back— he was back for Olivia.

She had a plan. Benson had created a battle strategy in her head, one that she couldn't reveal to anyone, not even her partner. For, if she told a soul of her arrangement, she had no doubt they'd all be held responsible for her choice. Because, as much as hated to go behind her squad's back, this was precisely that: _Her_ choice.

Somewhere between finding Amelia held up by rope around her wrists and getting tied onto a metal table, Olivia's plans had gone horribly awry. She felt the Devil's hands on her body, violent and repugnant. He forced his lips upon hers and jerked her neck for a better reach. Yet somehow, as sick as she was, as tired as she was, she never gave in. Olivia never fed into Lewis's twisted games and she could tell it was aggravating him. But then, the unexpected happened— the unforeseen: Lewis raised the stakes even higher. A round of Russian Roulette was underway, and Olivia had no other option but to participate. She instructed the girl to look away, always putting others first, no matter what the situation may have been.

Five times the gun should have fired, and five times she and Lewis had gotten lucky. They were on the sixth bullet. Every time the steel mouth of the pistol touched her flesh, Olivia said a prayer. And every time her finger touched the trigger, she saw another memory of her short, but long-lived existence flash before her. Lewis with his knowing smile, taunting her, would forever be engrained in her conscience. It was his last turn, but Olivia knew he was smarter than to use the remaining shard of ammunition on himself. She braced herself for the shot to pierce through her, her entire body shaking, sweating profusely. Lewis grabbed her cheeks, not to steady her, but to force her to watch. After all this was his endgame and he wanted an audience.

She gaped up at his ugly grimace, cringing at the crescent-shaped scar she'd bestowed upon him almost a year before. She saw the empty gaze in his eyes, the surrender, as he lifted the gun to his own head. No more than five seconds passed before Lewis killed himself, his blood splattered onto Olivia's face and clothing, his lifeless form crumpled to the floor. Amelia screamed, Olivia screamed, and footsteps came barging into the dilapidated room.

Her ears ringing from the shot, Olivia only watched as men and women in black uniforms stormed their shelter, lead by Amaro and Rollins. Lieutenant Murphy followed closely behind, already giving orders. Within moments, Nick was carrying his partner away from the crime scene, supporting her down the stairs, shielding her from the outside world, and towards their state cars. Olivia had already gone into shock; her mouth was open, but she wasn't saying anything, her heart was racing a mile a millisecond, and she was dripping buckets of ice. Everything around her was moving in slow motion, except for herself.

But that's when she saw him; waiting for her with the door open, baby-blue button down, sleeves rolled up, loosened tie, receding hairline and exposed tattoo on his forearm. The familiar vein pulsating in his temple and his brows furrowed, Elliot Stabler stood before Olivia Benson with an outstretched arm, careful not to make any abrupt contact. He'd seen enough in his years to know what not to do with a victim— he hated to see his old partner as such. He could tell by her gently moving lips that she was more than confused. Stepping aside and giving her room to get in the back seat, he nodded to Amaro in acknowledgment. It'd taken everything he had inside of him not to charge through the building with the rest of the squad; he no longer had a badge, meaning he couldn't have. When Olivia fell into Elliot's hold, he didn't protest. "Come on, Liv, let's take a little trip."

* * *

The car ride was a blur. Arriving to the hospital was a blur. Hell, getting examined was a blur. Olivia hadn't said anything in over two hours. She'd gotten the blood washed from her being and even received a fresh pair of clothes from Amanda, who had made a quick stop at Olivia's apartment with Finn. Amaro hovered outside of the room and paced back and forth like a nervous wreck among the three guards appointed to Olivia. All the while, Stabler was the one at the woman's bedside, clenching his jaw and resting the urge to a punch a hole in the wall. She'd fallen asleep after the IV was inserted, but only after given a sedative. It wasn't so much that she was getting belligerent, but more, she was hyperventilating and loosing her touch on reality.

Another long while passed with Olivia sleeping on the thin hospital mattress. In the jeans and the long-sleeve shirt that had been delivered, Stabler had pulled the covers up to her chin and said a quick, but meaningful prayer for her before going into the hall for some air. The pristine, while tiles blinded him and the fluorescent lights weren't making it any better. Elliot had always detested these places; people die in hospitals, and death was something he couldn't stomach. Given his prior job, one would have assumed he'd have gotten used to it.

Everyone was there, clustered together in a blob: Finn, Rollins and Amaro, who were still in their kevlar vests, Cassidy, even Cragen and Munch in his signature black suit. They all looked ragged with worry, as if they hadn't gone anywhere, not even to get some food. In his time away from the unit, Elliot had missed this kind of solidarity, and it was clear to him that the newbies were doing just fine— especially that Amaro guy. It was evident that he cared about Olivia, which mattered a great deal to Elliot. And Olivia must've cared about Amaro if she didn't let him in on her secret; she didn't want him to get dragged down with her.

"How is she?" Brian asked hurriedly, his forehead glistening with perspiration. He'd gotten there as soon as he could and was more than a little disappointed when he saw Elliot with Olivia, when it should've been him.

"What's the deal, man?" Finn questioned on the tips of Cassidy's inquiry, his lisp never more apparent.

"Has she said anything?" Rollins wanted to know, her blonde hair swayed from side-to-side. At Elliot's taken aback posture, she corrected her own. "Detective Amanda Rollins," she introduced brusquely, broad-shouldered. The older guy shook her hand, though never letting down his defenses. "Benson?" she pushed, redirecting his attention.

Elliot ran a hand over his neck and glanced at the stone-faced SWAT members lined against the walls. They may not have known Olivia the way the team did, but Elliot knew she wouldn't want her business just flung around casually— no matter who was in ear-shot. "Hey fellas, we're all here. I think she's good," he said to the men in uniform.

"Sorry. Our orders were to keep surveillance until the Lieutenant gets back," the lead helmet replied coldly. None of them moved from their posts, not even by a centimeter.

Cragen put a hand on Elliot's shoulder, sensing the man's budding anger. Completely bald now, the former captain motioned for them to convene in the corner. All seven of them shuffled to the empty space between food carts, still in that sluggish clump. Looking up, Elliot felt the heat of everyone's gazes upon him, begging for the slightest bit of information. "Doc said she's stable and that they're keeping her here overnight for observation. She's hooked up to some fluids to get her hydrated again. They said shock can do that."

Munch scoffed, "According to them. These doctors, they just want the money. I betcha she could've gone home hours ago."

"Whatever the case," Cragen intervened, always the voice of reason, "she's safe here, with all of us."

Several folks nodded in agreement, but Elliot wasn't so easily assuaged. "Is he dead? That son-of-a-bitch really did it?" Rollins and Amaro exchanged an awkward glance, both of whom were unsure how to answer. Stabler waved it off, then, and shook his head. "Forget it. I don't have authority. They just better be sure he's actually dead because I swear to—"

"Elliot," Cragen shushed.

A moment of silence fell over the group, one in which they all thought about Olivia. It was surreal for all of them to be in the same place at the same time— the old and new. Elliot had been the first one to leave, followed by Munch and the Captain. But since resigning, Stabler never forgot about Olivia, not once. He'd hoped to visit her soon, but not like this. Not ever like this.

A nurse who had slipped into Olivia's room while the group conversed came out in her purple scrubs and butterfly barrettes. "Elliot? Elliot Stabler?" However old she was, she had an unnaturally high tone.

"Yeah?" he shoved through the mob quickly and stood at attention.

The medical personnel, whose name tag read "Kylie," smiled gently. "She's awake. She's asking for you." Elliot peered over at Cassidy, who looked let down, but not angry. The younger man nodded for Elliot to go ahead.

Her eyes were open, she was sitting upright, and she was fiddling with the plastic tube connected to her arm; a rhythmic beeping emanated from the machines signaling her steady heart rate. Closing the door behind him, the macho man swaggered over to the brunette. "Elliot!" she exhaled, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks. Open for a hug, he leaned down and obliged cautiously. "You're really back." In her foggy state, Olivia feared that it had all been a dream. But here he was, Detective Stabler in the flesh.

Releasing each other, Elliot fell back into the hard chair and searched the woman's features. "It's not fair," he commented. "I'm getting older and you're getting younger." Through her sporadic cries, Olivia laughed softly. However, soon afterwards, the events of the last 36 hours replayed in her mind like a horror movies and she was paralyzed once again. Her breathing became shallow and uneven, her torso started to tremble, and her vision started to blur. "Slow it down, Liv. Come on, in and out." Alway quick on his feet, Elliot ran a towel under cold water and nudged Olivia gently until her back was against the bed; he pressed the damp material against her exposed skin and sat in front of her. He was going to let her make the first move; if she wanted human contact, then she would initiate it.

Slowly but surely, Olivia's pulse evened out. She took the cloth from Elliot and played with it in her, her bottom lip quivering. She never needed anyone to take care of her before, she didn't want to start now, not in front of Elliot. They'd seen each other through some low times, but this… this was the lowest of the low. "When'd you get in?" she asked quietly, never meeting his eyes.

"This morning. Finn broke the rules and called," Elliot said, though it wasn't the complete truth. Olivia could tell he was holding back. She noted the way he pursued his lips together, the way he usually did when he lied. "Hopped the first bus I could." Silently pleading for forgiveness, he picked back up. "Liv, I'm sorry I wasn't here before. I wanted to be, I swear to God," he never used the Lord's name in vain. "You know I would've if I could have."

Sitting nearly frozen-like, the dedicated officer blinked only once. "Who's out there?" she asked, making a slight gesture towards the door.

"Who isn't out here?" Elliot chuckled. "We're just missing Huang and our ADA."

"Which one?" Olivia half-heartedly jested.

"All of them," the devout Catholic replied.

"Brian… is he…?"

"Yeah. Want me to get him?"

Olivia peered down in shame. "Not yet. I…" Elliot lifted himself up and transported to the plastic seat with a strained sigh. It was weird, for as long as he'd been gone, in that moment, it felt as if she'd never left at all. He looked just as he always had, save a few a couple of gray hairs and a larger stomach. Other than that, though, Stabler really hadn't aged a bit. After so many times of being in his position, Olivia was now on the other side— she hated it. She hated the pity she sensed radiating from him and those outside the door. She hated being the object of so much consideration. "I need to get out, El. You know I don't belong here. I need to go home."

"You will, in the morning."

"No," Olivia said sharply. "I need to go. Now."

"Ok," Elliot conceded as he stood up again. He took the towel and freshened up the temperature before giving it back to Olivia. "Sit tight. I'll see what I can do."

One corner of the woman's mouth curved upward in gratitude and before Elliot had completed disappeared, Olivia stopped him. "El," she rasped. Stabler craned his neck slightly in anticipation. "Thanks."

Elliot winked at his friend. "Partners for life, right?"

* * *

Although Elliot didn't have any leverage anymore, the rest of the squad sure as hell did. When Murphy arrived in the heavily guarded wing, he was ambushed by the team, each member petitioning to get Olivia home. It turns out, Murphy had spoken with the doctor earlier and asked that they keep Benson through the night to ensure her own safety. Munch had been partially correct.

"Not a chance," the bearded man refused, walkie talkie on his belt loop. "Lewis may be gone, but the media's waiting for a press release and you know they won't hesitate to attack the moment they see her."

"How could they with all of us surrounding her?" Finn grunted, his arms crossed defensively. "Come on, no one's gonna try anything if we're there."

"You can't know that," Murphy countered.

Elliot curled his fists at his sides and concentrated on keeping his temper controlled. "Look, Olivia wants to be at her own place, and when she wants something, she eventually gets it. Now, you can either help us, or get out of our way."

Unfazed by his new adversary, Murphy took one step closer to Elliot; very few had done that in the past and had survived without injury to tell the tale. "No, _you_ look, _Mr._ Stabler. You may have played a role here before, but things change. Rules solidify and security gets tighter. There's no room for careless mistakes. As of right now, Benson is not a sergeant or a captain, she's not even a detective. She's a witness to kidnapping and a suspect in the death of William Lewis. She's also on mandatory leave, effective immediately."

"Suspect?" Rollins scoffed. "What— are you arresting her?" At Murphy's silence, Amanda bared her fangs. "That's bull! You know she didn't do it!"

"She was battered," Amaro chimed, the velcro of his vest splitting as he jutted his chest out. "She was hardly moving when we got to her."

"Olivia couldn'ta done it," Finn reasoned.

"You can't just kick her outta the division," Brian snarled.

Shutting the conversation down before it turned into a full-blown debate, Murphy waved his arms in the air. "It doesn't matter what you all believe or what you think, especially not after that stunt she pulled. Giving a live confession doesn't exactly earn you brownie points for trust." Scanning the small crowd, the scruffy fellow spoke with just a hint of sympathy. "Olivia Benson isn't going anywhere. Not tonight."

As if on cue, everyone turned and gawked at the woman standing in the doorframe, gripping onto the metal pole she was connected to; the wheel had caught on the small metal ramp and rattled through the corridor. This was her worst fear come to life: Olivia was officially a victim of her own unit.

* * *

**A/N** - Hey, there! So, to my usual followers, I know that this is very different from what I usually write. I've been wanting to branch out for a while, try my hand at fics for other shows. And then viola, I came up with something for SVU. I hope you liked this chapter! How believable it is, well that's up to you all. As of now, I'm planning for this to be a chapter story, as there are many things I'd like to include here. Also, welcome to my new readers. As I said, this is just the beginning! I hope you stick around to see what happens next!


	2. It Begins

With the help of Elliot and Brian, Olivia was able to return to her apartment the very next morning. It'd been a rocky night, but she got through it. She always got through it. It was going to take much more to keep her down, despite what the others thought. Accompanied by a police escort, the three adults rode together in a black town car, unmarked, of course. Halfway through the trek, Olivia started to get carsick, but she didn't let on. She just wanted to get home.

"What time do they need me?" she asked dully, knowing full well IAB wouldn't let her rest for anything. Brian's coat was draped her shoulders like a shawl, a protective shell. If only it really worked like that.

Cassidy sat on one side of Olivia, while Elliot sat on the other. "Whenever you feel up to it," Brian replied.

"Translation, ASAP," Benson mused. They passed tall buildings and short stores, street venders and vagabonds, businessmen and single parents. The streets of New York City were swarming with people going about their daily lives, all of them under the spell of the Big Apple, none of them realizing that there was more to life than their own schedules. Two days ago, Olivia was one of those people. She was roaming the sidewalks with her badge and gun, subconsciously on the lookout for potential predators, nursing a black coffee. And now… now she wasn't.

"You don't have to do it, Liv," Elliot remarked, his gaze penetrating through the thick glass of the window. "You could make those bastards wait like they should be doing anyway."

"And have them track me to my place? I don't think so. No, they want a statement, they'll get a statement," Olivia declared. "I'm not running from this."

Proud of his girlfriend's decision, Brian moved to put his hand on her knee; Olivia pulled away at the last second. She crossed her legs and looked out of the same window as Elliot. And for Brian, it did feel like old times again; it felt like it was the Olivia and Elliot show. Never one to be particularly empathetic, it wasn't a surprise to Olivia that Brian was pouting. His body went rigid next to her and he shoved his hands in his coat pockets. It was going to be a long ride.

* * *

"For the record, please state your name," Ed Tucker requested evenly, his pleated charcoal suit and red tie objects of Olivia's scorn. He and Sergeant Draper were less than a foot apart, both of them staring at the tired woman, a woman who they'd encountered several times before.

Olivia had washed up and put on her normal work clothes at the apartment. Elliot promised he'd be staying through the weekend and left her in the care of Brian, regardless of the current state of their relationship. Stabler had get a clean shirt on, but he swore he'd see Olivia after the meeting. With her short hair curled and makeup on to cover her puffy eyes, the former captain answered boldly. "Sergeant Olivia Benson, former captain of the Special Victims Unit."

The tape recorder at the corner of the table— the same type of metal table Benson had been plastered to 24 hours before— rolled as it picked up words and sounds. The balding man opened a case file and pushed it in Olivia's line of view. "Detective Benson, can you tell me who this man is?"

Olivia responded without missing a beat. "William Lewis."

"Are you sure?" Tucker grumbled. "It's hard to tell if you're not looking at the picture."

Begrudgingly so, Olivia tilted her head slightly until she caught a glimpse of the man. "That's William Lewis," she repeated. "Convicted kidnapper and serial rapist." His name on the tip of her tongue tasted like venom, a deadly poison she couldn't recover from, even with an antidote.

"And how do you know Mr. Lewis?" Before Olivia could speak, Tucker added, "Remember, you're under oath."

The comfort of being in her own precinct did _not_ outweigh her sorrow and trauma of this entire ordeal. Everything was so fresh, so vivid in her memory. The dust hadn't a chance to settle. Olivia struggled with the next part. "I was a detective on a case last year and he was the main suspect."

"Go on," Tucker goaded.

Closing her eyes, the only woman in the room moved her lips deliberately. "He was tried in a court of law, but ultimately was set free. Afterwards, he… he broke into my apartment and… he kidnapped and tortured me."

Tucker and Draper shared a moment of consultation, during which Olivia shuddered slightly. That wasn't even the hardest part. Everyone knew that: the press, the entire precinct, probably most of the city. It was common knowledge. Folding his hands on the desk, Tucker tried to regain Olivia's attention. "Detective, do you know why you're here?"

"I bet you'll tell me anyway," Benson chided.

Straightening his tie, Tucker leaned back in his chair. Barely five minutes in and Benson was already declaring war. "William Lewis was found dead by a gunshot wound to his left temple. The gun that was recovered had two sets of prints: his and yours. Can you explain why that is?"

"Russian Roulette."

"I'm sorry?"

Olivia locked eye contact with the men and echoed her previous statement with more force. "Russian Roulette. Lewis had the idea to play. He passed the pistol back between the two of us until there was one round left. When it got to the sixth, he used it on himself."

From outside of the windowless cell, the part of the unit— past and present— was standing by and watching through the one-way glass. Rollins and Finn were away on another case— no rest for the weary, though they assured their coworkers they'd be back by early afternoon. However, the rest of the guys were all hanging around the small space. The only calm one was Elliot. Amaro and Cassidy were going stir crazy, which wasn't being helped by the caffeine in their coffees.

"This is all bullshit," Nick growled under his breath. "The least likely to kill the guy out of all of us is being under a microscope for no reason."

"She admitted to lying on the stand, Amaro, what'd you expect? You know IAB, they're gonna crack down extra hard because of it," Brian countered. It was as if he'd forgotten his own role to play in the organization— he separated himself from them.

"So what— are you saying she brought this on herself?" Nick demanded. "She didn't have a choice."

Cassidy rubbed his shaved scalp and pinched the bridge of his nose. For a man in an expensive shirt and designer tie, he couldn't look any more unprofessional. In a way, it seemed rather wrong to have the three guys with the shortest fuse all in one room together. They were bound to rip each other's throats out at some point. "We always have a choice," Brian grumbled.

"Geez, when'd you get so cynical, Cas? Last I checked, you were a risk taker," Elliot piped, the anchor on his forearm never looked more foreboding than when flexed.

"Last time you checked was 14 years ago," Brian said bitterly. "A lot's changed, 'El.'" Turning back around, he went on with glaring intently at Olivia, wishing he could hear what she was telling them; rules mandated that the speaker be turned off during these types of interviews. He'd been on both ends of the game before, he knew how it went. Internal affairs grill the cops, the cops fight their instincts and keep cool, but somehow, it always ends up messy. Olivia looked ok, though. She was holding her own. Of course, she was showing signs of distress, but she was handling it. She wasn't letting Tucker pierce her thick skin.

As the men impatiently awaited the end, Elliot couldn't help but become overwhelmed with the decades of memories this place had given him. Just like always, the holding cell was completely packed; half of the perps in business clothing, the other half dressed like… the other half. Phones were wailing through the squad room and cops of all ranks were working together on cases, huddled over a small desk. He could even see his old table, right across from Olivia's. Well, now it was Amaro's. But, he remembered where the pictures of his family had been and where he kept his hidden rosary. It was all still clear as day to Stabler.

Amidst Elliot's nostalgia trip, Benson emerged from the interrogation room looking less than thrilled. She had her arms folded over her chest defensively, wishing she'd had her gun for show, to intimidate Tucker. "Thanks boys. We really should do this more often," she snarked as they appeared after her.

With her folder under in his armpit, Tucker raised one eyebrow and directed his comments solely to Olivia. "I'd be very careful about my next move if I were you, Detective. With so many people watching you, you wouldn't want to give the wrong impression, would you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Amaro snarled from his spot on the wall. "You threatenin' hah?"

Totally overlooking the man's pathetic intervention, Tucker held his hand out to further perpetuate the facade of a cooperative investigation. "Have a good day, Detective Benson."

Because of the eyes that were glued to her, Olivia had no other choice but to comply. She shook Tucker's calloused hand and held back the ear-splitting scream she felt in her throat. She did not, however, say anything. She didn't want everything thinking she could be bullied so easily. In reality, of course, not a single person thought that.

As Tucker and Draper left, Elliot shifted an inch and brushed shoulders with Tucker. "Sorry," he lied without looking at the man.

Draper continued out of the station, but Tucker hung back. "You know, you not being a cop anymore makes things a lot easier," he whispered in Stabler's ear.

"Look at that, we actually agree on something," Elliot shot back. "Two officers gettin' into a fight i'nt exactly a pretty headline, is it?" With a sly smirk, Stabler waved as the other guy sauntered out of the squad room and away from all of them. There was just something about those people— their absolute lack of empathy and understanding. If he didn't know any better, Elliot could have sworn that he'd seen that same look in Cassidy's eyes.

"You ok?" Elliot heard Brian ask. The younger man reached for Olivia's elbow, but even that was too much for her; she shrugged away and fixed her hair to play it off. No one was fooled, though. Not even Amaro. "You wanna get out of here?" Cassidy pushed. If anything, he was pushing his luck, that was for sure.

Olivia shook her head politely and glanced around at the busy station with everyone running around like chickens with their heads cut off. And then she remembered that there was nothing she could do; she was on mandatory leave. She looked at each of the men around her, slowed when she saw Elliot, and sighed heavily. He had that familiar crease to his forehead, the one that made her think he could read her mind. There were times in the past when she believed he had, and vice versa.

"Lunch is on me, Liv," Elliot winked friendlily.

"Yeah, all right. Sure," Benson conceded. "Let's go."

* * *

Because Amaro was the only one left, he had to hang back and wait for Murphy to show up. He wasn't particularly thrilled at the idea of not being there to protect his partner, though on some level, he knew she didn't need it. Olivia had never needed anyone to protect her; she protected herself. Which, truthfully, was the biggest reason she was pulling away from Cassidy. After all the time that they'd known each other, Brian still didn't get it.

The entire trek down the three blocks was nothing but Cassidy guarding Olivia, shielding her from newsstands and nosy civilians. Meanwhile, Elliot strayed behind a couple of feet and watched as Brian dug himself a deeper hole. Yes, Stabler was guilty of doing the same thing in the past— not because he believed Olivia to be incompetent, but because he cared so much about her. However, unlike Brian, Elliot quickly learned his lesson and took a step back.

"Cas, there's a gum wrapper rolling towards Liv. You might wanna grab it before it gets to her," Stabler jested. Brian didn't find it so funny. In fact, he rotated his body so quickly, anyone would have thought he was about to punch the other man in the jaw.

"Brian, don't," Olivia requested dryly, never turning to look at him. She shuffled down the cement with her hands in her trench coat pockets, the buttons buttoned, and the ties tied. She felt more secure in her own jacket than she did in her own apartment.

His fists clenched at his sides, Cassidy hissed under his breath and let it slide. His gravelly voice sounded like sheets of sand paper rubbing against one another. "Where the hell are we going?"

"We're here," Elliot stated flatly, unamused by Brian's apparent immaturity. The former officer lead Olivia and her boyfriend up to a hotdog vendor at the corner. He wasn't sure if he would still be there after all these years, but Elliot was pleasantly surprised to find his pal Kenny behind the metal cart. "Miss me?" Stabler smirked the moment Kenny craned his neck.

"Detective Stabler!" the gray-haired man with a mustache exclaimed. He and Elliot exchanged a strong shake and he tilted his Yankees hat to Olivia and Brian. The sun from above reflected off of his balding head and his formerly white apron was now the color of Pepsi. Several inches shorter than Elliot, Kenny looked to be in his 60's, no wedding ring, with a gold cross necklace. "Where'd you run off to? You just disappeared on us."

"Duty called," Elliot fibbed. He and Kenny went back about 10 years. Stabler was hungry one day and he stopped for a bite to eat. Kenny's son was a cop and he asked if Elliot knew him. A week later, the headlines announced Kenny Jr.'s death. Since then, Elliot went to the man for a hot dog at least every Tuesday and Thursday. And, when he left, he didn't have the heart to explain why. He didn't want to disappoint the father of a fallen officer. "Important thing is, I'm back now. And I've got hungry friends."

Kenny's brown eyes sprang even wider as an excited smile spread across his lips. "Why didn't you say somethin,' huh? Come on. It's on the house."

Falling back just enough to line up with Olivia, Elliot watched Kenny's devout concentration as he slid one hot dog into one bun and so on and so forth. "You never told me about this place," Olivia mused.

Elliot just shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal of it. "Remember that nasty bug you had in '07? I brought you soup and a dog for myself. You wanted a bite so you took one and said it was the best hot dog you'd ever had."

"This is where you got it?" Benson observed.

"This is where I got it," her former partner confirmed. They spoke in hushed tones so as not to anger Cassidy even more, but it was no use. Brian was biting down on his tongue as he listened to the conversation between Olivia and Elliot, silently resenting Stabler for his presence. Not even the chilly breeze was enough to distract him from seething.

"Three of the best for the best," Kenny declared proudly as he passed around the trio's lunch. Relish, onions, ketchup, and mustard was spread across the six-inch franks, all just waiting to be demolished. Kenny waited eagerly to hear his customer's reactions, a braid-toothed grin stretching from ear to ear. After three decades in this business, nothing gave him more satisfaction than seeing happy customers.

"Never better," Elliot complimented once he finished chewing.

"It's great. Thank you," Olivia smiled mildly at the owner.

Elliot tried to discreetly slip some money under the napkin holder, but Kenny pushed his hand away. "I told you, don't worry 'bout it." He and his old friend engaged in a staring contest, one that the experienced business man eventually won— or so he thought. As soon as he let down his guard, Elliot stuffed the crisp bills by the ketchup and mustard jars.

Olivia had just elbowed Brian's side to get him to say something when her phone buzzed. "Benson," she answered brusquely. "Nick, hold on, what? Ok, I'm on my way." Olivia slipped her device back into her pocket and answered the men's curious looks. "Murphy's back," she explained curtly. "He's got some news."

* * *

**A/N** - I forgot that I had this written! Well, most of it! I had some free time yesterday and I got to finish the chapter. I just proof-read it, but I'm between homework, so please forgive any typos. They weren't lying when they said we'd be busy- this program is intense! I'll do my best to update next week, but we'll see. Thanks for the reviews/follows/favorites!


	3. Corrupted

**A/N** - It wouldn't be fanfic if a few things weren't changed, would it? I hope you all are ok with the tweaks I made. I'm not lawyer, but I'm trying to re-watch the episodes and work around them. Sorry it's been so long since I've updated this! Thanks for the great reviews! Enjoy!

* * *

When they got back to the station, everyone else was already there, waiting for them with their badges bared and guns in their holsters. It loosely resembled a modern-day western movie. Finn and Amanda were spread around the rectangular table, each with an "all-work-no-play" expression painted across their fearsome faces; their vengeful eyes and set jaws told everyone around them to watch out if they knew what was good for 'em. Amaro, on the other hand, was less intimidating and more on edge; he kept cracking his knuckles, even when there was nothing left to crack. It wasn't like him to be jumpy, but he wasn't accustomed to the inability to control things. He liked knowing how to right a wrong, but right now, he was as clueless as an infant. If the Captain or Munch had been there, they would've known what to do; they would've been ready to protect Benson whether she wanted it or not. That's what family does.

Murphy was in the middle of Rollins and Finn, acting as a human midpoint. It was painfully clear that no one was particularly fond of the man, nor did they enjoy his presence. For the time being, he was still in command of this unit, and until that time ran out, he was going to do everything he could to keep it in order, no matter who liked him or not. The moment he left, he knew things would go back to the way they'd been: sloppy, careless, irrational. These were the big leagues, though. He wasn't going to let anything happen under his watch.

"You, out," Murphy ordered Stabler with a pointed finger; his rough beard danced as he spoke. "No badge, no authority." From several feet away, Brian smirked to himself as he bore witness to Elliot getting his bottle taken away. Finally, someone was putting him in his place.

"I've heard it all before, Scruffy. Nothin' new," Elliot said in a blasé fashion with a casual shrug.

"I don't care what you've heard before, you know the rules: you can't be present during an open investigation. Got it?" the current presiding chief questioned severely. The same age as Elliot, Murphy secretly relished in giving the former detective orders. He'd heard the stories about the hothead and there was no room for his antics in this precinct- not anymore.

"Fine," Stabler held his hands up in surrender. "You need me, I'll be at the water jug— 30 feet away." Before leaving, he peered over at Olivia, who was looking somewhat pale. Exhausted— mentally and physically— and in need of alone time, it seemed as if Benson wasn't even there.

Until Stabler was a safe distance away, not a second before, Murphy attempted to grab Olivia's absent attention. Smart enough not to reach for her, the man simply waved a hand several times before her pupils returned to their normal size and she was looking right at him. "Go ahead," she commanded, still only somewhat present. "You got some news?"

Giving Rollins and Finn a tight nod, the partners dove in headfirst with their investigation. Always the gentleman, Tutuola handed the floor over to Amanda, who was sweating like a hog underneath her leather jacket. She rolled the board towards the table and revealed the profiles of the people they'd interviewed; for only two leads, the officers of the Special Victims Unit had covered a lot of ground. "Gabrielle Harrison, early 20's, works as a guard at the prison where Lewis was sentenced. She was stationed on his floor the day he was removed by an ambulance. She didn't watch him eat the druggie desserts, but she said that he'd been acting strange in the few days before they were delivered."

"He was a model convict," Finn began, "did his chores, stayed neutral, never snitched. But, Harrison says the week before he O.D.'ed, the guy started talking back to the other guards, taunting them. He was fifteen minutes late to work, and he skipped dinner twice."

"Yeah," Rollins nodded, "and eventually he stopped going to the dispensary."

Although there was more evidence to present, Finn got ahead of himself and gestured fiercely. "According to this guard," he motioned to the second picture, "James Reese at the front desk, the only other visitor Lewis had other than his sick girlfriend, was a doctor- a toxicologist. The guy was planning this for months, Liv. He just wanted it to seem sudden so the blame would fall on the system." _Even though it does_, he added mentally.

"Hold on, I thought you guys were working on another assault case," Benson interrupted tiredly. She waved towards the information with both hands, "This is my case."

Seeing as Finn and Rollins weren't totally sure how to answer the query, Murphy stepped in like the gallant fellow that he was and responded on their behalf. "I instructed them not to tell you," he said, without so much as a hint of apology. "For the sake of the squad." Setting his jaw tightly, he readied himself for a round of verbal jousting with Benson.

"Sake? What sake? They've got nothing to do with this," Olivia protested defiantly. "They weren't the ones He wanted."

"It was in the best interest of everyone here. I'm sure you understand. Like I told you before, Lewis might be dead, but there's still a possibility of danger."

Scoffing incredulously at the "captain's" gall, the passionate detective shook her head. "There's nothing he can do anymore. He's gone; I watched him die. I watched him kill himself. I. Know. Him. Lewis didn't have any friends. No one's coming after anyone." Benson's nostrils flared in annoyance as she spoke as clearly as possible. Without losing her cool, which was already breaking, she scanned the group slowly. "You guys are wasting your time. Kidnapping, sure. Possible sexual abuse, maybe. Conspiracy? We all know that's a stretch."

"A much shorter one than you think Detective," a nasally voice corrected from behind. Dressed to impress, as always, A.D.A Barba waltzed through the front doors and landed in front of the unit. In a charcoal suit, a yellow-striped shirt and purple-dotted tie, he straightened his yolk-colored handkerchief. As he closed in, he felt an unwelcome gaze on his neck and turned to find the infamous Elliot Stabler leaning against the wall, staring intently at him. Barba tilted his chin in acknowledgement, but Stabler remained still. With his leather briefcase safe in his grip, the lawyer surveyed Benson's current state. He'd seen worse, but he'd also seen better. "Welcome back."

"Word travels fast."

"When it's statewide news, it certainly does," Barba said to his client. "I'd tell you to check the channels, but I wouldn't want to trigger a PTSD episode."

From far away, Elliot didn't like the guy. He could only get bits and pieces of dialogue considering everyone else in the building was talking over one another. The man's turtle-like lips and arrogant posture didn't sit right with Stabler- especially when Olivia had that look in her eye that said she wanted to punch Barba. He couldn't have been more than 5'5"; Elliot could've taken him easily. But, there was nothing he could do. No badge, no authority.

Clenching her fists, the latest victim was struggling to stay composed. Treading on thin ice, she fought to keep from sinking. "What are you doing here?" She sensed Cassidy's rising anxiety, mixed with satisfaction at the prospect of some sort of justice. But Olivia wanted just the opposite; no one seemed to understand that.

"Why is any attorney anywhere?" Barba asked cryptically.

With everyone holding their breath and awaiting Olivia's response, they weren't disappointed in the slightest. They were all ready to pounce on Barba, the second he triggered their co-worker; the moment he so much as used the wrong inflections, he was out of there. "There's no trial if there's no perp."

"You know just as well as I do that's not true." As he removed his binder from his bag, he took out a shiny pen and twisted the cap until the tip revealed itself. Barba wasn't there on a housecall, and he sure as hell wasn't there for social hour. This is what he did for a living, it's what he poured every ounce of energy into. "Brooklyn's ADA Derek Strauss has filed for your arrest."

Her eyes bugging out of her skull, Olivia pointed to herself. "Me?"

Barba nodded stiffly, rather exhausted from it all, as if he were the one who'd just been kidnapped and tortured. He always did have a flair for theatrics. "After that you show you made on live television, he's claiming you murdered Lewis." Just as Olivia started to object, Barba cut her off abruptly. "When Strauss wants something, he usually gets it. That's where I come in."

"So, what the hell do we do now?" Amaro asked sharply, emerging from behind Finn's husky frame. He'd been lingering there briefly, the picture of Olivia with that man's blood on her face and clothes replaying in his head. "Testify again? Say the same thing as last time?"

"Unfortunately, you can't do anything. None of you can. Since you're all on the same squad, and considering how the events of the last trial unfolded, you're all prohibited from intervening," Barba relayed without a hint of remorse. He was a master at hiding his true opinions- sometimes.

One step at a time, Stabler got closer and closer to the huddle as subtly as he could. It drove him insane that he couldn't hear what they were saying, especially when Olivia looked as if she were about to throw up. "Liv?" Cassidy gruffed.

"What's the timeline on all of this? When does it start? When does it end?" Benson rattled off, sure to keep a safe distance from the rest of the folks in the circle. She didn't need anyone trying to comfort her now, nor did she want any more of their already overflowing pity.

Doing the mental math, the only guy in a suit clenched his jaw. "It begins today and it ends when we win." Exchanging a brief moment of eye-contact with Murphy, Barba simply said, "Captain."

The bearded officer understood loud and clear and unfolded his arms from his chest; this wasn't an easy task, but it had to be done. From his front pocket, he uncovered a set of metal handcuffs and showed them off. However, just as he started to approach Olivia, Finn stepped forward and stopped Murphy; he physically put himself in front of him and blocked the path. "If someone's gotta do it, it ain't gonna be you," he grunted. Finn snatched the restraints away and slowly walked towards his friend with heavy regret. "Liv, I'm sorry," he exhaled.

"Don't be," she acknowledged. She offered her arms out in surrender, much to disappointment of the rest of her team. "I'd rather it be you," she winked, giving a half-assed attempt at humor. The truth is, if anyone had to arrest her- God, she how she even had to think about it- Elliot would've been her first choice. After over a decade together, this would've been the icing on the cake. Under different circumstances, it might not have been so harrowing. So, when the cold steel clicked around her skin, all she was able to do was go along.

While various officers continued on with their own duties, oblivious to one of their own being dragged down, Elliot busted into the middle of the group, further breaking the rules. Anyone else would have thought it to be impossible, but Stabler proved them wrong: he invaded Murphy's bubble only to dig himself a deeper grave. "What the hell are you doing?" he snarled, the corners of his mouth downturned in a steep frown, his eyebrows pinched together and his forehead wrinkled. He kept imagining the different ways he could take Scruffy down. It really wouldn't be that hard.

"I told you to stay out of this," Murphy growled, undeterred by the angered human in front of him.

"Yeah, well, that was before you put cuffs on my partner."

"_Former_ partner, Mr. Stabler. And what we do here, in our own station, is none of your business- not anymore. You seem to be forgetting that you're a civilian- you have no say here."

As if he were boasting his power, Murphy puffed out his chest and pulled at his belt loops. He was enjoying this just as much as Cassidy was; it was though they shared the same vendetta. He dared the rest of the group to challenge him, which none of them did. It wasn't because they were afraid of him though. They just didn't think he was worth fighting.

Grabbing Cassidy by the wrist, Elliot all but spat in his face. "You're really gonna let them do this?"

Snatching himself out of Stabler's grasp, Brian was buzzing with the urge to clock him. One swing, that was all it would've taken. He wanted to. God he wanted to. Although, after looking over at Olivia, he thought it best not to start anything right now. She was on the verge of a meltdown, or so he thought; he never gave her enough credit and she knew it. No, Cassidy was going to stay on his best behavior. "Don't ever touch me again. You wanna mess with the law, be my guest. But keep outta things that don't concern you." Fixing his hair and tie, Brian acted like the kind of guys he and Elliot had hated back in the day: arrogant, stubborn, and completely blind to what was really going on. His distorted view on the entire situation was doing more harm than good, and unfortunately for him, it was going to come back to bite him in the ass some day.

"Olivia Benson," Amanda began unwillingly, "you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk with a lawyer-"

Elliot felt like the only sane person in a sea of deranged mental patients. Why weren't they trying to fight it? Why were they letting this happen? He didn't care how apologetic they seemed, he wasn't giving in that easily. Shoving past Cassidy, he jogged to meet Olivia's pace. He could see the dread in the dark circles under her eyes, the resignation in her posture. She walked with a slight slouch, her hair acted as a curtain over her face, and her arms were locked behind her back. "Liv-"

"I'm fine, El. It's just temporary," she said casually. He didn't have to say more than her name for her to hear the concern in his voice. On the inside, there was a storm brewing- a messy, violent storm. Lightning struck her spirit and it shrank as she inched closer and closer towards that small room. She refused to look back at everyone else, especially not at Cassidy or Stabler. She didn't want their faces to be the last thing she saw for the next however-many hours.

"Elliot," Finn exhaled, holding Stabler back from entering the space. "You know you can't go in there." Amanda lead Olivia through the door and closed it behind them. From the outside, the men watched as the women took a seat across from one another and Amanda unlocked the cuffs. It was all just a formality, really. A fucked up, painful formality.

Less than 48 hours ago, Olivia Benson was being held at gunpoint, sexually harassed, and tied to a table. A young girl's life was depending on Benson's survival. And now? Now she was being accused of murder. A once respected officer of the law, the fearless detective was trapped. In just a matter of days, she'd lost what little control she had over her life. She'd lost the sense of security she'd spent months rebuilding. She'd lost her badge that took years to earn. And, worst of all, she felt as if she was losing her mind.


	4. Partners for Life

Elliot Stabler had seen a lot of things in his lifetime— things that would scar even the bravest of soldiers. Being a detective in the Special Victims Unit, he never truly "got used" to the crime scenes or the horrific nature of some of their cases. Not only as a father, but as any sane human being, he had difficulties coping with the stress of his profession. Did he get angry? Hell yeah. Did he get into fights? Sure. Drink? Only when he needed to. It was just who he was. Often times, he found his faith conflicting with the stories of some of the victims. In the end, it had all just been too much for the man. After all, that's what he was: a man. He didn't have an iron-will or ceaseless patience; he could only take so much.

While he'd left the department, he still kept busy. It wasn't until 2013 that he retired his badge. After a series of failed attempts at finding a new path, Elliot had come to the conclusion that it was his time. He was far from 60 years, and with a record like his, there were no objections to his surrender. For the first time in decades, Stabler was free. Free to be a father. Free to be a civilian. Free to be himself.

Elliot never forgot about his former squad-mates. Not for a hot second. He thought about them almost every day, every single one of them: Finn, Munch, Cragen, most of all, Olivia. They'd been partners for 20 years. Partners for life. The pair had survived some rough experiences together. Between being shot and getting knifed in Grand Central, they had their fair share of stories. They hadn't always liked each other, though. No, when they first met, Olivia was unimpressed by Elliot's forced bravado. Similarly, Elliot was taken aback by Olivia's take-charge persona. However, it didn't take long for the two of them to care about one another— to love each other. They became more than partners: they became friends. And, when Elliot parted ways with the force, he often wondered what would have happened if he'd stayed.

Maybe it was because he'd been away for so long, or maybe it was because he'd gotten too comfortable in his life as it was, but when he saw Olivia Benson handcuffed to a steel table and locked in an interrogation room, Elliot felt a shift in his spirit. It was akin to the moment an optometrist put a lens over your eyes and the letters are crystal clear. The only problem was, it was too clear for Elliot. He didn't want to see any of this. He didn't want to see Olivia being treated like the scumbags they'd sent to the slammer and he was going to make damn sure no one viewed her as such, as if anyone did.

"We gotta fix this," Stabler grunted as he squinted through the glass.

Tutuola stood at the former detective's side with an overwhelming sense of deja vu. With his black shirt and black pants, Finn looked just as he always had: big, intimidating, and mean. "Prison break? I'm down," he said lightly.

"I'm serious," Elliot growled, "we can't just leave her in there." He watched as Olivia shifted in the hard, metal chair. He knew her well enough to know that she was avoiding their gazes. Over two decades under her belt, Olivia was smarter than some people gave her credit for. "This is bull. They had their turn with her. She's gotta rest."

"When have you ever known Liv to rest, man? Even if she was out, it ain't like she's gonna lay on the couch all day and watch Martha Stewart. She'd still wanna be here." Finn had known Olivia just as long as Elliot, and they had their own connection, but it wasn't as strong as the one she shared with her old partner. Everyone had been jealous of their relationship at some point. Sure, he and Munch were close, but Finn sensed there was more to it. He could see the way Elliot always tried to protect Olivia, and he could see it now.

Shaking his head menacingly, the balding man turned away from the painful window and leaned against it with his back. His arms folded to highlight his rough, take-no-shit attitude, he stared out at the rest of the office. Officers of all ranks were busily going about their days, totally unaware that another badge was in need. "I don't like it, Finn," Elliot mused. "Any of it."

As if he were taking in the same atmosphere, Finn nodded slowly. "I know. Took me a while to get used to it."

"It's the same building, but it's not the same precinct. And who the hell are those guys? Prick one and prick two, huh? They a package deal or something?"

Chuckling to himself, slightly amused at his friend's annoyance, the older detective sighed loudly. "Barba's not so bad. He can be an asshole, but he's a good suit."

"And the other?" Elliot probed, motioning to the man down the hall— the one who was very visibly giving orders.

"Murphy?" Something in Finn's voice changed, as if he too shared a subtle resentment towards their interim chief. "I'll let you know when I figured it out." With a long, heavy exhale, Stabler straightened his back and shoved his hands in his pockets. He walked up and down the end of the corridor, back and forth from wall-to-wall. Olivia had refused a lawyer and while Elliot and Finn held down the fort, the rest of the team worked together to form a game plan. "I hate to agree with the guy, but Murphy's right, man," Finn piped. "Things have changed. It's ain't like before. Cragen and Munch ain't around to bust our asses, but that don't mean they're not still bein' busted, you know?"

This got Stabler to cease his pacing long enough to crane his neck towards Finn and cock a single eyebrow. In a hopeless tone, he countered with, "Yeah, but at what cost?"

* * *

Two hours tore through the station and left very little to be salvaged. Two hours of Elliot being forbidden to enter the room, unable to communicate with Olivia. Everyone else was free to go in and out as they pleased, though only two people took advantage of that opportunity. Finn and Amaro took turns with the brunette, kept her company, tried to distract her. It wasn't as if they treated her with kiddie gloves, but they treaded carefully. Like a dance they'd perfected, they said nothing about the elephant in the room. Olivia was gracious towards their efforts, but she wasn't stupid. She knew they were all just killing time until something got sorted out. Either she was going to spend her night at the precinct, or she was going to spend it behind bars. Between the two, she wasn't sure which was less painful.

Around three o'clock, just as midday dawned on the office and phones rang on top of each other, Elliot peeled himself off of the transparent wall. Finn had been occupying the corner, keeping to himself as Nick entertained Olivia. As if it were all happening in slow motion, Murphy strode down the stout corridor, his unbuttoned sports coat flew behind him like a cape; however, he was no superhero. He was followed by Detective Rollins and that annoying hobbit with the mismatching suit. Instinctively, Elliot put himself in front of the door and blocked their way.

"Easy, El," Finn warned. He put a hand on the man's shoulder, an attempt to ease his temper before it was too late. God only knew what could happen.

"Haven't you done enough?" Stabler snarled at the temporary captain. A drop of spit flew from his mouth and landed on Murphy's lapel, an accident of course.

Having had more than enough of this guy's snark, Murphy shoved Elliot into the wall without any remorse whatsoever. "The only reason you're still here, is because I've completely overlooked protocol and allowed it, you got that? If anyone else had been in charge, you would've been on the street the moment you walked in."

Undeterred by the sergeant's machismo (he'd seen worse), Elliot straightened his shirt and fixed his tie. He was fully aware of the protocols and the rules, and he was fully aware that they'd been breaking said rules. Civilians were not permitted beyond the desks, that was lesson number one. That freedom only ever gave them the impression that they had power in the station, which they didn't. And now, with the roles reversed, Elliot finally understood how perverse that rule was. Without stirring the pot, he stepped aside and opened up the path, thus making room for the trio. However, once they all disappeared into the square space, Elliot clicked the button that let him hear their conversation.

If Olivia was surprised to see her squad join her and Amaro, she didn't show it. She merely nodded to each of them, including Barba. At this point, she didn't have enough steam to be angry— not at them, at least. "I'd offer you something to drink, but," she shrugged, "limited resources."

Although slightly humored by her dry comments, Murphy was all-business. They'd wasted enough time in creating a tactical plan, one they could've come up with in less than an hour. It'd been Amanda's suggestion, it was only fair that she did the honors. "Rollins," was all Murphy said.

Amanda followed the unspoken instructions and released the metal bracelets from around Olivia's wrist; the brunette massaged the skin where the silver rubbed a pink line into it. She looked up at Murphy with a quizzical expression, one clearly conveying her confusion. "What's going on?" she asked.

"We just bought you an extra day," Barba answered, somewhat restrained. "That's what's going on." It was as though there was more he wanted to say, but he held back. His Adam's apple lurched upwards, as if he were fighting against further sentiments. There was a bead of perspiration glistening on his forehead: Barba never sweat. Something was different about him, something Olivia couldn't pinpoint.

As if she didn't need anything else added to her already-high level of unease, Benson addressed the entire group. "What?"

In the hopes of alleviating her bewilderment, Murphy shed his bad cop persona, but only briefly. If anyone blinked, they would've missed it. "Strauss wanted you arrested, and you were. You've already been questioned as it relates to this case, both by the department and IAB. You're being released with the understanding that you will be under the supervision of a decorated officer."

"And who would that be?" Olivia wondered with great skepticism. Brian was nowhere to be seen, though it actually calmed her a bit not to have his eagle eyes following her every move.

Calling his name like a dog, Murphy shouted, "Mr. Stabler!" And, like an obedient canine, Elliot came rushing in. He all but stood at attention, so as not to escalate the tension between he and Murphy. "Because he no longer works here, he is not seen as a threat," Murphy explained. "However, his recognitions still stand."

With several armed individuals gaping at him, Elliot felt a chill run down his spine. That wasn't an easy feat. This had to be a joke. Hadn't Scruffy just slammed into him about the rules? Was this even possible? "Are you serious?" Elliot choked out.

"Olivia Benson," Murphy announced, resuming the role of hard-ass, totally ignoring Stabler's question, "we hereby release you into the care of Elliot Stabler. You may not leave the city for any reason. Your accommodations have already been settled." Brushing past Stabler, he disappeared like a ghost; in and out was his specialty. The only evidence of his presence was the scent of hazelnut coffee, but even that faded out within seconds.

The rest of the unit, however, did not recover as easily. While the majority of them had been aware of the decision, it didn't take away shock that accompanied it. All them had been an officer long enough to know what was allowed and what wasn't. Of all the people in the world, it was Barba who'd found a loophole in the system. Still gripping his suitcase, his cheeks flushed and his lips pursed together even more than usual, the ADA left with a single remark. "Get some rest, Detective. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

* * *

Much to the surprise of Elliot, the department had contacted the hotel he was staying at and arranged for a suite— compliments of New York City. It was much easier than adjoining rooms and, from their perspective, safer. In the end, safety was the most important aspect. As the news spread of the latest entanglement involving Olivia, not all of the NYPD was against her. In actuality, a fair amount of blues were behind her, supporting her. You'd just never know it from the way they'd acted.

Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a dining room. It was a big space for only two people. But, neither one of them were complaining. Olivia's apartment was being guarded by security, just to make extra certain that no one else was after her. In the case that there was an accomplice of some sorts, well, the department wished them luck in trying to break in. In the meantime, she was to spend her night in a room ten feet away from Elliot. They'd been caught in more precarious positions in the past, but this time felt different.

Stabler's belongings had already been moved into his new, temporary home. Meanwhile, Olivia had an overnight bag delivered to the front stoop. Amanda arrived at four thirty, accompanied by Finn. They only stayed long enough to check in with the pair and remind them to call if they needed anything. It was when Olivia was closing the door that she spotted two men in gear at the corner. She didn't say anything to them, not even when they both looked at her. To be honest, she didn't even care. There was no use in putting up a fight, especially not with SWAT members.

When dinner time came, Elliot offered to run for Chinese. He wasn't fond of the suggestion, as that would have meant leaving Olivia alone. But, when she insisted that she'd be fine, he had no choice: he had to respect her wishes. Anyways, he'd seen the way she kept checking her cellphone, waiting for a call. And, he knew just who she was waiting for. So, he grabbed his coat and his wallet, promised he'd be back in 15 minutes, and rushed through the hotel. He too saw the guards, and he too remained silent. He figured he'd caused enough rows for one day.

After exploring what there was to explore, Olivia changed out of her day clothes and into something more comfortable. A gray hoodie and jeans fit that profile perfectly. She kept her phone with her during her journey through the suite, hoping for it to light up. She wasn't sure why she was so hung up on it, exactly. It wasn't as if she were dying to be around him just then; she just needed to know he was ok. It hadn't taken Olivia long to realize that the reason she hadn't seen Brian earlier was because he left, enraged at the solution Barba had come up with. On one hand, she thought it immature of him to react so negatively. On the other, she sympathized with his anger; she just wished it was directed at the real problem, not something so juvenile. She had enough on her plate without having to worry about her pouting boyfriend.

At exactly 6:22, Olivia's device screamed for attention. It didn't take long for her to press the green button and hold it against her ear. "Brian?" she exhaled.

"Yeah, it's me," Cassidy replied in that gravelly voice of his.

"Where are you?"

Unashamed and uninhibited, the snockered man gurgled something along the lines of, "Somewhere with a lotta bottles."

Sitting on the pink, velvet couch, Benson dug her elbows into her knees and massaged her right temple. Of course he was at a bar. Why didn't that prove to be surprising? "Have you been there all afternoon?"

"Maybe. That depends. What time is it?"

Although he was mostly likely miles away, Olivia could practically smell the booze on his breath. Instead of putting herself first, like she ought to have been, she'd been fretting over Cassidy's well-being. However, it was in that moment that she came to the conclusion she'd made a mistake. "You know what, never mind," she muttered. "I'm just going to act like this didn't happen, which will probably be true for you in the morning. Have fun with your bartender." With that, she clicked the red button so fast, Cassidy couldn't even say "sorry."

"Trouble in paradise?" Elliot mused from the entry way, a plastic bag hanging at his side. The aroma of chicken lo mein and fried rice quickly spread throughout the lodging.

Shrugging casually, Olivia rose from the sofa and walked towards the glass table. "Smells good," she observed. She didn't want to dwell on the subject that was her relationship. She wasn't even sure that's what it could be called anymore.

Hearing the message loud and clear, Elliot unveiled two cardboard boxes, two pairs chopsticks, and said, "Tastes even better." He passed Olivia an eggroll, still in the bag, while he ate his wrapped in a napkin. Shreds of cabbage spilled from where he'd bit into it and fell onto his blue tee-shirt.

Neither one of them moved to sit down. They were perfectly comfortable standing up, leaning against the kitchen counter. They'd eaten like that on many occasions, during late-nights at the station. Back in the good old days, the entire squad had consumed enough Chinese food to fund the business for life. After all these years, Stabler still knew what Benson's favorite dish was.

"El, can I ask you something?" Olivia scraped the bottom of the bucked with the wooden utensils, suddenly overcome with jitters. Elliot did that thing where he tilted his head slightly and one corner of his mouth drooped downward; it was a silent "yes." "Where've you been?"

It was the question he'd been dreading most. He knew it was only a matter of time before he had to address his absence. They'd been avoiding it since he got there, which might as well have been months. It was a rare occurrence to witness Elliot get nervous. Olivia reckoned she'd only seen him truly antsy only a handful of times in the past. There was something about a burly detective's ears turning pink that seemed rather off. "I'll give you three guesses," he said.

While she much preferred a straight up answer, Olivia was quietly grateful for the playful undertone. It definitely distracted her from the obvious. "Hawaii?"

"I wish," Elliot snorted. He took large swig of Pepsi and shuddered as the bubbles settled in. "Try again."

"Hmm… Azkaban?"

"Az-ka-what?"

Laughing softly at Elliot's lack of knowledge, Olivia deliberated on her last guess. Instead of taking the easy way out, she used common sense. But then, there was so much he hadn't told her— so many empty spots that needed to be filled. She could only make so many assumptions. Setting the container on the table, she wiped her hands on the scratchy napkins and took a long, hard look at Elliot. What'd he say the other day? He "flew in?" Wherever he'd been, it had to have been far enough to take a plane. She searched for a hint, even the slightest clue, but fell short. Olivia really didn't know. "Come on, El, throw me a bone here."

As he chewed through a partially-cooked stalk of broccoli, Stabler offered one word. "British."

"England?" Olivia inquired dubiously. Elliot hardly ever left New York, let alone the country. England?!

Cleaning his chin with the back of his hand, Elliot nodded. "Kathleen lives there now. We were just visiting." He said this as nonchalantly as he could and braced himself for the backlash.

It didn't take long for it to dawn on Olivia what he'd given up just to be there. And suddenly, she felt more guilt than she did fear. Everyone knew how important family time was to Elliot. The mere thought of him leaving only to return to such a depressing case— it horrified Benson. "Are you insane?!" she barked. "Elliot, your daughter's on another continent and you left just like that?!"

"She understands, Liv. Hell, she told me to come. She was worried about you," he defended. "Kathy's still with her. It's no big deal."

Steam came out of Olivia's ears as she clenched her fists. This was exactly what she didn't want to happen. She didn't want people to put their lives on hold for her; she didn't want anyone to change their plans because of what Lewis had done. It wasn't anybody else's problem but her own. Everyone was acting like she needed babysitting, like she was too fragile to cope. But they were wrong. In fact, they were all making it worse. And this— this took the cake. Olivia wasn't just guilty, she was furious. "Look, I… I'm tired," she said, unable to continue with a proper argument, "Something tells me whatever Barba's got prepared won't be very fun, so… I'm going to call it a night."

The brunette began walking away, her jaw firmly set and her knuckles turning as white as snow. She just wanted the day to be over, not that tomorrow was going to be much better, but there was always a chance. She couldn't muster enough to engage in verbal combat with Elliot… which is why she was less than thrilled to hear him talking to her. "Liv, wait." His keys jingled in his pocket as he jogged up to meet her, still careful to keep a distance. When she didn't turn around, he accepted the fact that he'd be speaking to the back of her head. "If… if you need anything, you just—" he paused as if he'd forgotten what he was going to say. "You just let me know, ok?"

"Yeah, sure," Olivia fibbed, her body aching like nobody's business. If she didn't lay down soon, she might have just collapsed right there.

Mentally berating himself for telling her, Elliot never revealed his self-disappointment. "Goodnight."

"Night." With that, Olivia disappeared into her own room and shut the door behind her, just in time for the tears she'd been holding in to fall freely down her face. The twin-sized bed was calling her name, as if it knew how much she needed to unwind. She left the overhead off and let the lights from the city guide her to the mattress. Using the blanket to muffle her cries, she slid beneath the covers and curled into a ball, something no one would ever find out about. It wasn't Lewis's scar that was haunting her right then; it was harsh truth that things would never be the same— that no one would ever treat her the same again.

Meanwhile, Stabler was kicking himself for causing such distress. He never should have uttered a word; he should've let Olivia think he'd been in Hawaii or something. It would have been better than telling the truth. Unfortunately, this was one of those instances in which honesty wasn't the best policy.

Once the leftovers had been put in the fridge and the packagings had been cleared away, Elliot changed into his sweats and brushed his teeth. He made it halfway to his own room when he entered the living space. The pink couch Olivia had been sitting on when he got back seemed to be in need of an occupant. And, the television set just happened to be across from it. Not to mention the fact that it was the midpoint between his bedroom and Olivia's. So, Elliot did what any good partner would do: he planted himself securely on the slightly-worn cushions, turned the TV on mute, and served as warden of the suite. With the sound completely cut off and his head on a lumpy, circular pillow, Stabler fell asleep watching the sports channel. Even when he woke up in the middle of the night to go the bathroom, he chose the couch over a bed. He was going to watch out for Olivia. No matter what.


End file.
